Page 14 of State of Mind

Dmitri burst into laughter. “I guess? I mean, I don’t know what he plans to find in himself renting all of Augustin House and insulting the kitchen staff at the Tavern but…whatever.”

Wilder felt a pang of sympathy for the guy, but only a little. This wasn’t the first time some lost, lonely soul wandered into Savannah looking for more than it had to offer, and it never ended well. It nearly killed Antoine—and Wilder even had a small part in that when the guy nearly choked to death on a berry from his cupcake.

And frankly it had been Antoine falling head over heels for Fitz—literally and bruisingly—that had saved him from himself.

Luca strolling in wanting the city to cater to him—to offer him something that wasn’t organic—was going to be a disaster. Wilder had never been the kind of man to enjoy watching train wrecks, but he was curious to see how it would go. He only hoped it wouldn’t ruin the poor man, who really did look totally lost.

CHAPTER 6

Dmitri took off around noon, and the shop was dead, so Wilder took his tea outside and moved to sit on the top step when he glanced across the street and saw someone huddling on the bus bench. The man was wearing all black, with long sleeves and a familiar gauzy scarf under the June sun, and Wilder felt his heart ache a bit for him.

He didn’t like to pity people, but Luca Moretti seemed to be begging for it as he sat there like a starving puppy, arms clenched tight around his middle. On a whim, Wilder turned back inside and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then spied his spare vanilla cupcake sitting out by the microwave.

He snagged it, then pushed the door open with his hip and glanced both ways across the road before crossing the asphalt, stopping a few feet from Luca’s knee. The man didn’t look up, but from the way he stiffened, Wilder knew Luca knew he was there.

“You look like you could use this.”

Luca’s shoulders hunched, and Wilder thought maybe he heard mumbling, but he couldn’t be certain.

“I don’t mind the sulking, but I’m also hard of hearing, so if you could sulk where I can see your mouth, it would help you get your point across.”

Luca’s head snapped up, and his gaze zeroed in on Wilder’s hearing aids, then on his face. ‘Sign?’ he asked with one hand.

Wilder shrugged. “If you want.” He waited until Luca shifted over, then he sat, leaving a foot of space between them. “I can hear you like this, but I’m also fluent.”

“My brother thinks my ASL sucks, but I’m better at it than most of the people in my family.”

Luca’s voice was lighter than he expected—a little harder to hear, but not impossible this close. It would be, some day, he knew. Voices would go the way of the birds, and of song lyrics, and people talking on TV—lost to a sort of rumbling white-noise.

“I’m used to voicing here,” Wilder said. He offered out the water, and Luca took it, but he didn’t open the bottle, instead setting it between his feet. “You should drink that. The dehydration here is sneaky thanks to the humidity. You won’t notice until you’re passed out and someone’s calling an ambulance.”

Luca sighed, but he didn’t move to obey.

“Especially if you’re hung over.”

At that, Luca’s cheeks pinked. “Everyone thinks I was shit-faced last night.”

“Word has it, you yelled at the Tavern’s kitchen staff,” Wilder pointed out. “And the owner.”

Rolling his eyes, Luca flopped backward on the bench. “I was confused why they’d put pine nuts on a salad without mentioning it on the menu. I’m allergic—like, seriously allergic. The entire dish had to be re-made, but then I panicked because if they didn’t list the ingredients on the menu, I couldn’t be sure that they’d be careful enough.”

Wilder softened just a fraction. “You didn’t need to be a dick about it.”

“Yeah well, in case you haven’t heard, that’s apparently my thing,” Luca spat. “I tried to get a sandwich at the Italian food truck, and he said they were out. Of everything.”

Wilder’s lips twitched. “Is that so?”

“Then that Rugelach place,” he started, pronouncing it entirely wrong, “said they were closed for lunch and slammed the window in my face.”

Wilder bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because it wasn’t entirely fair. But he also understood how his city could quickly become an army, ready to rise at the defense of anyone who posed a threat. Of course, Luca didn’t seem like much of one to him. He was rich and spoiled, but he was lost and confused. He was a stray—really, and Wilder had always had a soft spot for those.

“You must be hungry.” He held out the cupcake and waited for Luca to take it. When he did, he reached over and plucked the cherry from the top, then held it out. “Eat this first, though. The last time a newcomer tried to bite into my cupcake without eating the strawberry first, he almost choked to death, and I don’t see any wayward fireman here to save you. And I cannot do Heimlich.”

Luca stared at him, almost confused, then leaned forward and plucked the cherry from Wilder’s fingers. With his teeth. They were white, sharp, and polished, and they grazed his skin as they drew the bit of fruit away from his hand.

Wilder’s heart thumped wildly in his throat from how utterly and intensely unexpected it was. His gaze searched Luca’s face almost desperately, but he found no mocking, and no seduction. Just something quiet and a bit off kilter.

“It’s good,” Luca said, then peeled the wrapper from the side of the cupcake.

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